Bizzaro World
by Lint
Summary: A Clark AU.
1. One

The wind blew fiercely across the rooftop, causing his mostly unkempt mass of hair to fly every which way. He knew the wind was cold. It was always cold from sixty-eight stories up. Not that it bothered him, though sometimes he wished it did. He only felt a small sting of chill against his skin, but it was easily ignored. A superficial feeling only created by his knowledge of the facts. He knew it was cold, therefore he felt it.   
  
His doctor thought he was delusional.   
  
He wondered if maybe, she was right.   
  
He ran his finger along the cool metal of his father's helicopter. He wondered if he could lift it. He wondered what would happen if he threw it off the roof. Would his father get mad? Would he actually yell? He knew the answer was "no" automatically. It always was when it came to father's emotions. He was always so calm and collected about everything. Even when he was mad you could never tell. He wondered if throwing the helicopter off of the roof would make his father believe him about his abilities. All the times he'd tried to tell him, he was too busy with a deal. Or simply ignored the "nonsense" his father said he spoke. He thought it was an odd comment for his father to make. Because rarely did he ever speak.   
  
He peered over the edge of the roof. Stared at all the lights moving down below. How the mellow twinkle of so many people's lives danced below him like a ballet. He liked how the noise of the city barely reached him from up here. He knew he could hear the noise of the traffic easily if he really wanted to. But he didn't. He took his time to enjoy the silence.   
  
He came up here to get away from the tornado of clothes and belongings his brother was throwing around the house. He was still surprised that his father was actually sending him away. His brother hadn't done anything too horrible for at least a year. But last week, for no apparent reason, his father told him that he'd come up with a grand opportunity for his brother. Something to "straighten him out" was father's words. He was going to let him run one of the fertilizer plants they owned out in the country. He also got to stay at the castle that father had shipped brick by brick all the way from Scotland. His brother wasn't very fond of the idea. So less so that he didn't even bother to yell when father dropped the news. He just walked out of the office. He's pretty sure that was the first time he'd ever seen his brother simply walk away from something.   
  
Father was in Japan for some big conference. "Multi-billionaires of the world" or something to that extent. He wasn't even home to see his brother off. Just left a list of instructions about plant management and union contracts and other various business related things he had no interest in.   
  
He walked closer the edge, let his toes hang over.   
  
He remembered the first time he discovered he could float. He was dreaming about space (he always dreamt of space for reasons he didn't know) and woke up hovering a few inches above his bed. Two seconds after opening his eyes he fell back onto the sheets. He didn't know how to explain it then and doesn't know how to explain it now. But for those few precious moments he felt special. Ever since that day he'd tried to float by will, and in time, became mildly successful. He made the mistake of trying to show his father, but he was busy with some depositions and waved him off. He never even noticed his son was floating six inches above his desk.   
  
He knew instinctually never to show his brother. He was already hated enough for reasons unknown and he didn't think it wise to feed any more fuel to the fire.   
  
He dreamed of flying one day.   
  
But floating would have to do for now.   
  
He took a small tentative step past the edge and closed his eyes as he concentrated. Breathing evenly he took another step. And another, and another. When he finally opened his eyes again he was staring at the roof of his building from thirty or so, feet away. He looked down past his shoes and saw the maze of lights below and smiled softly to himself.   
  
His mother had once told him practice makes perfect.   
  
He wanted reach the other building across the street, but knew that now was not the best time to attempt it. His brother knew about his hiding place on the roof and could, at any minute, decide to look for him there. He walked back slowly, trying keeping his concentration, when the door to the stairwell flew open and he lost it.   
  
The stars seemed to shine so high above him before his body rolled with the momentum of the fall and suddenly bright lights of the street below screamed toward him. He threw his arms in front of his face. The wind rushed past, making his ears pop. He wasn't scared. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen off the roof. He just hoped he wouldn't hit anyone when he came crashing down the sidewalk. He thought it funny how many thoughts one could have when they seemed to be plummeting to their doom. Many people would be praying to god. He wondered if he finished his geometry homework.   
  
The sidewalk cracked underneath him and he heard the gasps and shouts of shocked pedestrians. He shook his head in a daze and made sure to cover his face with his hair. Some old woman screamed when he rose to his feet and she fell to the ground clutching her chest. He took a moment to feel sorry for causing such a commotion; he never intentionally would harm anyone, before taking off in a blur toward the back door of the building.   
  
Two seconds later he was back in his room, changing clothes and hiding the street battered one's under the bed. He heard his brother calling his name as he shoved his shirt under the sheets, and he made his way out into the living room.   
  
"Clark," his brother said. "I thought you were on the roof."  
  
I was, he replied.   
  
"I just came from there."  
  
I heard you coming and snuck back down, he said.   
  
His brother looked at him suspiciously. A look he'd learned to ignore over the years. If anything was the slightest bit out of the normal for his brother, it always meant something was up. Something against him.   
He watched as his brother took a seat on the couch and stared out the huge fifteen-foot windows.   
  
"I think I might actually miss this place," he said.   
  
Smallville might not be that bad.  
  
His brother's eyebrow arched in the way it always did when he disagreed with you.   
  
"Trust me Clark," he said running a hand over his smooth scalp. "I've been there once and it was enough."  
  
When did you ever go there?   
  
"Before."  
  
Before what?  
  
"Before you," he said. "And before this." Pointing at his head.  
  
He moved his eyes away from his brother's baldhead. His brother had been bald as long as he could remember. He'd only seen hair on him in old pictures. The ones his brother hadn't found where mother hid them. The one's he hadn't torn to pieces.   
  
His eyes wandered to the group of photographs along the other wall. The one's that made them look like an actual family. The posed and proper, not a care in the world photographs. The one's where only he and his mother smiled. The one's where his father and brother remained stoned faced. His eyes locked on a particular portrait. The last one taken before things had changed. Before mother died. Before his brother started getting into trouble. Before father had grown even more distant. Before he chose not to speak so much. He remembers a seemingly normal childhood. Full of happiness, other than a few brotherly spats, and love from his mother. Father he was never sure of and still isn't.   
  
He remembers mother's love and caring. Father's harshness and discipline.   
  
His brother stood next to him.   
  
Lex?  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Do you still think about mom?  
  
He felt his brother's eyes on him, but he kept his gaze on the photo.   
  
"Everyday Clark," he said. "Everyday."   
  
He looked at his brother finally. Moments like these were few and far between. They rarely ever spoke to each other. And Lex was hardly ever nice. He thought that maybe it was just because he was leaving. Or maybe, if it was physically possible, Lex actually had a heart buried underneath all the fury.   
  
Maybe.   
  
He looked back at the picture.   
  
He felt Lex move away. Heard him walk down the hall and the front door open and close.   
  
When he was sure his brother was gone he let himself fall to the floor and threw himself into the fetal position. This fall had hurt a whole lot more than the last one.   
  
***  
  
As he lied in bed that night he stared up at the ceiling wondering what the house would be like without Lex around. He knew it would be a whole lot quieter. That was a given. But he knew it would feel emptier too. They hadn't had a nanny since he was twelve. She had died only a few weeks into her post. If he remembers correctly they went through quite a few nannies. Mainly because Lex kept seducing them. Everytime he slept with one she would be gone the next day. Father never did much to discourage this behavior. It sometimes scared him how unphased father could be by Lex's actions. He simply kept hiring more nannies, slowly working his way up the age bracket until finally coming to one old enough to where Lex wouldn't touch her no matter how large the amount of spite he meant to cause. He remembered liking Agnes all right. But she died so soon. Father came to the conclusion that he was too old for a nanny after that.   
  
Father was never around much. Being the head of a multi-national corporation meant many days away from home. His father was far too busy 365 days out of the year. Too busy to even sire his own children apparently. Both he and Lex were adopted.   
  
He wasn't sleepy.   
  
He hardly ever slept.   
  
He let his mind wander back to times that didn't seem so bleak. Times before father's and Lex's little civil war. Before he became virtually non-existent in both of their eyes. Times full of mother's smiles. Times before he discovered he was a freak with all these different abilities.   
  
He remembered the one time he made the mistake of asking why Lex didn't have any hair. How Lex became furious and pushed him to the ground and pummeled him mercilessly. How he begged and pleaded for Lex to stop. How he felt no pain, and had no marks. Lex was curious why his little brother wasn't bleeding or bruised, but only until he pushed him halfway across the room and into the wall. Lex's concussion kept him from remembering the whole incident. He knows it's the only time he was ever glad he hurt someone.   
  
He wasn't sure how much time actually passed before his eyes finally started to get heavy. He was only sure that Lex hadn't come home yet, and most likely would be staying out all night for one last party in Metropolis.   
  
His last thought before falling asleep was about the couple in the red truck. And what his life would have been like if they adopted him instead of the Luthor's. 


	2. Two

Might be some missed typos here. Sorry.   
  
***  
  
Father's call from Japan woke him up from another dream. He rolled over to his nightstand to reach for the phone and mumbled a sleepily incoherent hello. His father's monotone voice nearly lulled him back to sleep, but he threw is feet on the floor to prevent that from happening. Father was asking if Lex was packed yet, and Clark told him yes. Father asked if Lex was still unhappy about the whole thing and Clark told him yes. Father asked to speak to Lex and Clark listened intently to the sounds of house. Hearing nothing he said Lex was gone. That he probably left for Smallville already. Father said "excellent" in a way Clark never wanted to hear spoken about himself. Father then said he had a lot more business to attend to before he came back to the states, and that he would probably check up on Lex before coming home.   
  
Clark told him that it was fine and he would see him when he got home. Father hung up and Clark listened to the empty hiss on the other end of the phone. He was pretty sure that it's was something he'd have to get used to.   
  
As soon as he hung up the phone it rang. He was about to yell at his father for calling so much, but the bland automated voice that came through the receiver wouldn't have been much to argue with. It was a call to remind him of his appointment with Dr. Wilson today at 3:30. He hung up the phone and made his way toward the bathroom to shower.   
  
It would probably be another week before father came home. It didn't bother him. He was always good at fending for himself. It was something you had to be good at in this family.   
  
***  
The halls of Winchester Preparatory School were a blur of blue and khaki as the student body milled back and forth between them. Clark hated the uniform and usually kept his jacket off for as long as he could. It barely fit him, and he really didn't think blue was his color. No one even looked up as he passed them. He thought it was kind of funny how easily ignored he could be despite the fact that he was taller than most of his classmates. He couldn't really keep his eyes on his feet because other people's heads kept getting in the way. Hastily, he made his way through the crowd and onto world history.   
  
Taking his seat in the back nearest the door he pulled out his book and notepad and waited for the teacher to begin her lesson. He kept his eyes focused on the board, took notes when he thought he needed to, and half-paid attention to the teacher. He never bothered to remember teacher's names. It almost seemed too personal. All they really knew about him was that he was Lionel Luthor's son. That's all they needed to know. He knew that he probably would have gotten good grades even if he didn't fully deserve them. That's how Lex got through some classes when he was in school. Clark made sure to do well enough in school so he wouldn't feel like anyone was giving him a handout.   
  
The period was over quicker than he thought it would be, and he got up silently from his desk, turned in the class assignment, and filed out the door. Second period was Geometry. He still couldn't remember if he finished the homework. His side was still sore from the fall. He didn't want to think about last night anymore. He shut off his thoughts like he had a switch in the back of his head and robotically moved toward class.   
  
During lunch he usually sat outside behind the cafeteria. He didn't like the noise of the countless students talking about absolutely nothing inside. Sometimes he couldn't fully control his hearing and it made his head ache in a way migraines couldn't compare. He wasn't that hungry today. Just absent-mindedly picked at his deli sandwich and drank his soda.   
  
Sometimes he wised he had friends. Someone he could confide in. Someone besides a woman with a PHD. He knew that wouldn't happen anytime soon. In order to get a friend you'd have to speak to them. He wasn't good at speaking to kids his own age. Every time he went to open his mouth he found that he couldn't think of anything good to say. Dr. Wilson told him that he had problems relating to people. She had to go to college for seven years just to come to a conclusion that was fairly obvious to anyone whose seen him try to start a conversation. He thought that was funny.   
  
No one really wanted to be his friend because of who his father was. He knew that. Lex had friends because he bought them. Not with money per say, but with his manipulative ways, charisma, false promises and even falser loyalty. Lex had the kind of currency Clark knew he would never possess. He was glad about that.   
  
He was about to throw his soda away when he heard the screams. The pleading and begging for whoever it was, not to jump. He rolled his eyes and sped off toward the gym. He looked up to the rooftop when he slowed down to approached the crowd built up. He couldn't see who it was exactly, but knew that he'd have to run up there and keep them from jumping. He was almost tired of saving the lives of discontent, spoiled rich kids. Once or twice a month someone wandered up there and threatened to jump. The school had taken precaution and locked the door that led to the roof access stairs, but it never seemed to work. They always found a way to get up there.   
  
Sighing, he moved away from the crowd and to the back of the building. He briefly wondered what reasons this kid had, but thought it better not to know. All that really mattered was that he or she didn't end up another bloodstain. He walked calmly through the maintenance door, and through the damp, pipelined hallway. Once he got the roof access door he saw that the lock was busted again. He ran up the stairs and half a second later was staring at the back of a girl still teetering on the edge. He'd have to hurry, someone was bound to run up here to try and stop her.   
  
Grabbing her by the waist, he tore her away from the ledge and flew back down the stairs. The girl screamed, most likely because she thought she was falling, and her hands flailed wildly, smacking Clark in the head a few times. He left her sitting on the empty bleachers inside the gym and ran back outside. Part of him wanted to talk to the girl. To see why she was driven to throw herself off of a building. But another part, a bigger more influential part of him, knew that a good deed was done. And that's all that needed to be done. He could talk about falling off of buildings all he wanted; he had the most experience. But it wasn't something he'd want to rehash with a suicidal schoolmate. She couldn't possibly understand the floating. The walking on air hundreds of feet above the ground. No one could.  
  
Clark Luthor the floating wonder.   
  
Sounded like something you'd see in a circus sideshow.   
  
He knew that the whole school would be buzzing about the latest attempt of gym diving, and the questions that would be asked how she got into the gym so quickly. He knew he moved fast enough so that she couldn't see him. But there was still the 'what if' factor gnawing at him. He shook his head hoping the thoughts would magically disappear with the motion, and made his way to third period.   
  
***  
  
There was only one other kid in the waiting room at Dr. Wilson's office. He was pretty sure he'd never seem him here before, but then, the doctor was always getting new clients. If the other kid even knew Clark was there he made no sign of showing it. Just kept his nose buried in his magazine. Clark checked his watch and it read 3:27. This new client was cutting it close. Dr. Wilson always liked to give herself a few minutes after a session, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen today. He focused his eyes and the bleak white walls faded away in a blur. He saw a woman still sitting in the chair directly in front of the doctor's desk. She seemed to be hunched over slightly, like she was crying. He could hear the muffled sobs when he concentrated, but immediately pushed them away. He didn't want to be that nosy.   
  
He thought about how he had come to be here. How a simple psychiatric evaluation at school turned into numerous counselor appointments. How those turned into group sessions. How those turned into doctor referrals. How the mere fact that he was who he was, and so anti-social automatically meant that he had problems. He was pretty sure that if his father weren't a Luthor, he'd be sitting in a nice mental hospital somewhere. Drugged up on Thorazine and staring at the walls. He wondered if that would have been so bad. It would have been more structured that his home life ever was. His father didn't have time for the details when the school had finally gotten a hold of him on the phone. He just asked for the number of the best psychiatrist in Metropolis and sent Clark to her.   
  
It was another ten minutes before the woman composed herself and finally came out into the waiting area. The kid finally looked away from his magazine and stood up. It seemed like he didn't care at all that his mother, or whoever she was to him, was crying just a few minutes before. He only walked out the door and waited for the woman to follow.   
  
Dr. Wilson smiled when she saw Clark in his chair and motioned for him to come into the office. He knew better than to ask her what the woman was crying about. He took a seat in the chair and watched as the doctor finished up some paperwork. The clock ticking was the only sound in the room.   
  
"I see here that you need another refill on your prescription soon," she said looking over a piece of paper. "How many pills do you have left?"  
  
He didn't know how many pills were left in the bottle. He never took them.   
  
Ten, he lied.  
  
Lying always felt strange. Like the words were heavy on his tongue and didn't want to come out correctly. Dr. Wilson was the only person he ever lied to. The pills were the only thing he lied about. Everything else about him, he merely didn't tell anyone. He knew the doctor didn't believe him, and knew showing her the truth would only scare her.   
  
"Okay, that will last you another week," she said. "You'll have to come to the pharmacy next Wednesday to refill it."  
  
Okay.   
  
"So how was school today?"  
  
Fine.   
  
"Talk to anyone?"  
  
His response was only a small chuckle.  
  
"Anything interesting happen?"  
  
A girl tried to kill herself.   
  
"Oh my, that's terrible."  
  
Yeah.   
  
"Were there any warning signs? Any reason why she would do such a horrible thing?"  
  
I don't know. The whole incident was kind of weird.  
  
"Weird?" She replied, her eyebrows quirking in curiosity. "Weird how?"  
  
Well they say she was up on the roof one minute and inside the gym the next. No one knows how she got there.   
  
"Who are 'they' exactly?"  
  
Teachers, janitors, other kids.   
  
"What do you think happened?"  
  
I think she was rescued.   
  
"Rescued how exactly?"  
  
He looked up at the doctor, his eyes conveying all the knowledge beyond them. He had told her all about his 'powers.' He felt funny calling them that. To him they were more a curse than a blessing. To her they were a delusion more than a reality.   
  
"Oh," the doctor replied. "You had something to do with it?"  
  
He nodded.   
  
"How exactly were you involved?"  
  
I had that dream again, he said changing the subject.   
  
The doctor glared at him impatiently but let it slide.   
  
"The one where you're flying," she stated, finally taking out her notepad. She scribbled a few lines before looking at him again.   
  
Yeah. But this time it was different.   
  
"Different how?"  
  
There was a girl there.   
  
"A girl?" She said genuinely surprised. She scribbled a few more notes. "What did she look like?"   
  
Dark hair just slightly past her shoulders, dark eyes, a businesswoman looking suit.   
  
"Do you have any idea who she could be?"  
  
Not really.   
  
"Did she have a name?"  
  
Lois, he said. Lois Lane.   
  
"Does that name mean anything to you?"  
  
Not that I know of. I don't anyone named Lois.   
  
"What were you two doing in your dream?"  
  
Flying.   
  
"Only flying?"   
  
Yes.   
  
"Did this woman make you feel anything?"  
  
Kind of.   
  
"What did you feel?"  
  
Safe.   
  
"Safe how?"  
  
Safe like... like I could talk to her. Like I could tell her everything.   
  
"What do you mean by everything?"  
  
He looked up at her; eyes clear in his meaning.   
  
Everything.   
  
"I see," said the doctor as she made some more notes. "Does your father still not believe you about your abilities?"  
  
No.   
  
"Why haven't you ever tried to show him?"  
  
I have, but he was too busy to even look.   
  
"Why don't you show me?"  
  
Because I don't want to.  
  
"You can trust me Clark you know that."  
  
I know.   
  
"Why don't you?"  
  
Because it's better for you to believe I'm crazy.   
  
"Why do you think that?"  
  
Because once you see it's all true you'll tell someone. And they'll tell someone else. And next thing I know I've got the authorities knocking down my door and hauling me away.   
  
"If all you told me is true, do you really think they could take you?"  
  
No.   
  
"They why are you afraid of it?"  
  
Because I'd have to hurt someone to get away.   
  
"How do you know that? Why couldn't you just use your speed?"  
  
Someone always gets hurt in those situations.   
  
"How do you know that for sure?"  
  
I just do.   
  
"I see." More notes.   
  
I don't want to hurt anyone.   
  
More notes.   
  
"Do you believe you can fly Clark?"  
  
No.   
  
"Why is that?"  
  
Because I've tried.   
  
"And what became of that?"  
  
Nothing. I just floated for a little bit.   
  
"Oh yes, the floating. You can do this for brief periods of time correct?"  
  
Yes.   
  
More notes.   
  
"But you can't fly."  
  
No.   
  
"You dream about it constantly."  
  
I know.   
  
"What would you do if you could fly Clark?"  
  
Escape.   
  
"Escape from what exactly?"  
  
Everything.   
  
"And where would you go?"  
  
Clark looked at her for second, his mind focusing on the destination he'd been thinking of every night before he went to sleep. Where his brother had been shipped off to. Where he knows he was found and his family never told him.   
  
Smallville, he said.   
  
"Really," the doctor replied surprised. "Why..."  
  
Times up, Clark said. 


	3. Three

Might be typo's. I'm bad with them.  
  
***  
  
When he walked through the front door of the apartment he half expected to see Lex on the couch. Phone in hand, the TV on far too loud, maybe a bottle of wine or whiskey sitting on the table. There was no noise at all waiting for him as he walked inside. The silence that the room held was like a slap in the face.   
  
No one is here Clark.   
  
You're all by yourself again.   
  
He doesn't think he liked how quiet it was. Lex always had something going on when he was here. Something that made noise. Something that caused action. The rare times father was home, he was always on the phone or watching some business show on TV. When mother was alive, she would sing and play music. None of it will happen again.   
  
Lex was gone.   
  
Father was gone.   
  
Mother was dead.   
  
No.   
  
He doesn't like the quiet at all.   
  
***  
  
He ordered pizza for dinner. Father never allowed pizza in the house because he was afraid someone would spill sauce or cheese on all his expensive upholstery. Clark usually followed all of father's little rules. Mostly because Lex broke them enough on his own. He licked a drop of sauce the dribbled down the side of his hand. He figured that, just this once, what father didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He'd make sure to throw the box out in the dumpster in the morning.   
  
When it got dark, and when the pizza was all gone, he wandered up to the roof and watched the city light up. He looked across the street to the other high rises and felt the urge to try and make it across. He pushed it away. He was still sore from yesterday and didn't feel like taking any chances. The wind kicked up a little bit and sent his hair awhirl. He sat and hung his feet over the edge, leaning back on his palms and tilting his head skyward he breathed in the fresh night air.   
  
The moon shone brightly from its perch in the gentle black blanket of the night sky. He thought it beautiful and daydreamed about flying there one day. He let his mind wander. Thoughts coming and going in no particular order, and forgotten as easily as they were formed. Eventually his mind fell back to his dream. About the girl, or he should say, woman. He remembered her looking too old to be called a girl.   
  
The name "Lois Lane" sounded so familiar.   
  
Maybe he'd seen it somewhere before. It could have been the name of one of father's maybe associates. It could be a company employee. It could have been anyone for all he knew. But his father's company seemed like a good place to start. He made a mental note to look it up when he went back inside.   
  
For now he just wanted to enjoy the view.   
  
***  
  
It was so bitterly quiet in the house he could hear the clicking of his keyboard echo across the walls. His eyes roamed the last names of nearly half a million LuthorCorp employees. Fifty-seven Lane's in all. Not one of them a Lois. He searched all the Lane's family records. No children or siblings named Lois. Nothing. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He'd spent nearly half an hour purging LuthorCorp's firewalls, and another forty-five minutes looking through the entire list of Lane's. Breaking into the company's systems had been trickier than he thought it would, father liked to keep his information secure, but he'd gotten though it. Father didn't know how good his son was with computers.   
  
A life of near solitude would make anyone yearn for a hobby.   
  
It was probably the only skill he possessed that father would approve of.   
  
He remembered having to ask father for his first computer with a strategically placed note on his desk. The next day when he came home from school, there it was all shiny and new waiting for him. Lex was jealous of course. Called Clark a kiss up and a daddy's boy. Lex always expected things from father. He never thought to ask. Incidentally, the next day there was a computer waiting for Lex. Father didn't like to see his boys fighting.   
  
After getting a soda and giving up on his initial search for a Lois Lane in the company database, he scrolled down the names of other employees looking for anyone he might recognize. It was kind of strange to see how many people depended on father. He knew every person on this list did. For food, for healthcare, for homes. He didn't think anyone deserved that kind of power. Not even father.   
  
He was down to the S's before he finally saw a name that piqued his interest.   
  
*Sullivan, Gabriel R.*  
  
He'd never met anyone named Gabriel before. He thought it was an interesting name. He remembered some movie where Christopher Walken played a character named that, but not much else. He clicked on his name and read the file. Gabriel Sullivan had been hired right out of college and had worked for LuthorCorp for nearly eighteen years. He was promoted to plant manager at the facility in Smallville a year ago.   
  
*Employee: Sullivan, Gabriel R.   
D.O.B. 3-27-65  
Residence: 8546 Causey Way Smallville, KS   
Job Title: Manager, LuthorCorp Fertilizer Facility #3, Smallville KS   
Education: BA in Chemistry, Metropolis University   
Marital Status: Widow  
Employee No. 968-365-1145  
Misc. Info:  
Wife: Lane-Sullivan, Anna L. (deceased)   
Offspring: Lane-Sullivan, Chloe L.   
D.O.B. 5-25-85  
Residence: Eden Hall Dormitory, Winchester Preparatory School 20017 Hopkins Blvd. Metropolis, KS*  
  
Clark stared for the longest time and Gabriel Sullivan's daughter's name. She was a Lane, or a half Lane, as the hyphen in her name indicated. She went to the same school as he did. The "L" of her middle name.   
  
Lois?  
  
It would have been too much of a coincidence if Lois was what the L stood for.   
  
He left the high tech puzzle box of LuthorCorp's computer systems, for Winchester Prep's easier to break into student file server. In a matter of seconds he found and pulled up Chloe L. Lane-Sullivan's file.   
  
*Lane-Sullivan, Chloe L.   
Guardians: Sullivan, Gabriel R. Lane-Sullivan, Anna L. (deceased)  
Grade: Sophomore, uTranscriptsu  
Tuition: Paid Annually   
Board: Eden Hall   
Extracurricular Activities: Excelsior (editor), Debate Team (co-captain), Literary Society  
Notes: "Chloe is an exceptional student, whose self appointed high standards are always met with skill and precision. She has demonstrated a journalistic instinct far beyond her years."   
-John Steadham, Teacher. Adv English Lit. Excelsior Faculty advisor.*  
  
Clark could already feel the gears in his head begin to turn. He had to talk to her. What he would say, he had no idea.   
  
The phone rang, pulling him from his train of thought. Father, double checking that Lex wasn't there. Clark said he wasn't. Father said "good" and hung up.   
  
***  
  
He got to school an hour earlier than usual. It felt strange to him to be roaming through the hallways alone. No sea of blue blazers. No mesh of matching khaki pants and skirts. He could actually see that tile on the floor was beige. A small detail he'd never noticed. He wandered the halls for awhile, enjoying the peaceful tranquility. The sounds of his footsteps echoed across the hall. The silence here was different. Not like at home. Not where there was any choice but silence. When it was forced and mocking. This was different. He liked the difference.   
  
Slowly but surely he made his way toward the Excelsior's office. When he entered the moderately sized room on the school's second floor, something unexplainable made a twinge inside him. It felt good here. Really good. He thought he might have been here once before. Probably on one of those tours they gave all the freshman when they first enroll. He ran a hand along the desks, across the tops of computer monitors, soaking it all in. He hardly ever read the school paper. He wasn't really interested in school policies or politics. And that's all it really covered. Lunch menu's, teacher interviews, academic and sports awards. Things he could care less about.   
  
"Can I help you?" A voiced asked from behind.   
  
He chided himself for getting so wrapped up in thought. He didn't like it when someone snuck up on him. It was a rare occasion anyone ever did. He turned around and found himself looking down and a petite blonde girl. She wore the standard Winchester uniform, though her sweater wasn't on at the moment. For some reason he thought it didn't look as bland on her. She looked back at him curiously. The staring contest felt a little lopsided to him. He had at least a foot in height on her.   
  
"Can I help you?" She repeated.   
  
He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to trip over his tongue and what came out was a stuttering mess of vowels. Her eyebrows arched as she took a cautious step back.   
  
I'm sorry, he said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. I'm looking for Chloe Lane-Sullivan.   
  
"Well that's convenient," she chuckled. "You're looking right at her."  
  
He blinked. This was her? He was expecting someone taller. Someone more serious looking. Someone with dark hair like the dream... If he wanted to be mean, she could have been described as some mall rat looking girl. This couldn't have been the woman.   
  
You're Chloe?  
  
"Last time I checked," she replied. "Did you want to make an announcement in the paper? Something about the basketball team?"  
  
Basketball team?  
  
"You're on the team aren't you?"  
  
No.   
  
"Oh. I'm sorry. You look like it. What with the height and all."  
  
He didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't.   
  
"Okay then," she said breaking the awkward silence that had formed. "You're here because?"  
  
I want to join the paper.   
  
"What?"  
  
'What?' Was right. He didn't know what had caused him to say that. As far as he knew he'd never had any real interest in journalism. He didn't have real writing experience either. The most he'd ever written were book reports and essays. Not exactly the best talent builders. All he knew was how he liked how it felt in this room. Chloe was staring at him like he'd magically sprouted horns on his forehead. His tongue was tied on how the follow up his statement.   
  
"It's a little late in the semester don't you think?" She said.   
  
Oh. Yeah, I guess.   
  
"Please don't tell me you write as well as you speak."  
  
Uh...  
  
"Have you ever written for a paper before?"  
  
Not really.   
  
"What made you think you could just waltz in here and start being a reporter? Are you really on the basketball team? Is this some kind of bet? Journalism is a serious business buddy. It's not fun and games. You have a responsibility to report the truth to the public."  
  
Oh, okay. I understand. Sorry to have bothered you. I'll go.   
  
He moved to toward the door when he heard her sigh heavily and mutter something about pity and being crazy.   
  
"Wait," she called. "I didn't say no. What English class are you in?"  
  
Um, advanced English Lit.   
  
"John, er, Mr. Steadham's class?"  
  
Yeah.   
  
"Well that's certainly a plus," she said. "Now I know you understand grammar in its purest form."   
  
Mostly.   
  
"I don't even know why I'm considering this," she said shaking her head. "Maybe you just have an honest face or something. That's good. You can use that. If you want a shot at the paper give me two hundred words on Stacy Willis."  
  
Who?  
  
"The girl who tried to kill herself yesterday. Tell me you heard about that."  
  
I did. I just didn't know her name.   
  
"Good. Have it in by three o'clock."  
  
But I thought you're already running a story about her. I saw the headline mock up on the desk over there.   
  
"Yeah. I wrote it. But, I want to see what you can say about it. If it's anywhere near as good as mine. I'll run it and you'll be on the paper. Deadline three o'clock. If it have to tell you what that means, don't even bother writing."  
  
I know what it means.   
  
"Good."  
  
I'll see you at three then, he said moving toward the door.   
  
"Hey wait!" She called after him. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"  
  
Clark.   
  
"Got a last name Clark?"  
  
Luthor.  
  
"Luth... Oh." Her eyes grew wide with recognition.   
  
Three o'clock, he said. See you then.   
  
"This isn't some kind of big joke is it?"  
  
He stopped dead and turned to face her.   
  
Why would you think that?  
  
"I-I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's just that well..."  
  
The name, he said. I get it.   
  
"I'm really sorry," she said again. "Please don't fire my dad."  
  
Hey, I understand. Believe me I do. But believe me when I say I'm not my father or my brother.   
  
"Okay," she said softly.   
  
He stood watching her fidget nervously. It disgusted him how the simple mention of his name could make someone feel that way. He moved closer to her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. It was the second thing he'd done that morning without knowing why. She smiled faintly as she looked up at him, her eyes...  
  
Those eyes.   
  
He knew those eyes.   
  
Chloe?  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
You're middle name wouldn't be Lois would it?  
  
"Well yeah," she said, blushing slightly. "But how did you..."  
  
Her eyes. He felt like he could lose himself in them. Like he could tell her everything.   
  
Nothing, he said. Just wondering. 


	4. Four

One month later.  
  
He watched as Chloe paced back and forth in front of his newly appointed desk. The Excelsior office was empty except for them, as it always seemed to be after school. She thought aloud her edits as she read his latest article. He grinned at the sight of it. The grin felt odd on his face. His skin wasn't used to it, but he liked the way it felt. Every few seconds he glanced at his cell phone. Father was supposed to call sometime this afternoon. He had mentioned something a few days ago about Lex and Smallville. It was only scattered words in the facade of a conversation. Father wasn't fully available to talk then. As if he ever was.   
  
Father was a man far too busy to talk to his "other" son.   
  
"Not bad Luthor," Chloe said, slapping down his article on the desk. "If I didn't know I had a hand in your journalistic coming of age, I'd say you were a natural."  
  
A compliment. He still didn't know how to take them.   
  
I guess the world of journalism owes you a debt of gratitude, he said.   
  
"Damn right it does," she shot back playfully.   
  
He couldn't get enough of this. Sitting after school with her. The playful banter he still had some trouble mastering. The friendly smiles she gave him and the "hello's" when they passed in the hall. The way she sometimes looked at him when they stayed really late working on things. The way he couldn't quite understand.   
  
The last time he could remember feeling this way was shortly before mother died.   
  
He couldn't call it happy. He wasn't sure what that was. But he felt it was something similar and it would have to do.   
  
"Hey," she said waving her hand in front of his face. "There's no daydreaming on the job."  
  
What? Oh, sorry.   
  
"Just don't let it happen again."  
  
That smile.  
  
So welcome and inviting.   
  
She was his best friend.   
  
Clark Luthor had a friend.   
  
The whole concept was a little mind-boggling. But he liked it that way.  
  
He knew it would be appreciated more.   
  
***  
  
"You seem different," Dr Wilson said with a wry smile.   
  
Different? Clark replied. Different how? What do you mean?  
  
"I'm not sure exactly," she said leaning a little way across her desk. "Just that you... Hmm..."  
  
Well that was helpful. He knew father was getting his moneys worth here.   
  
"How is life at home?"  
  
Quiet.  
  
"Is your brother still gone?"  
  
Yes.   
  
"And your father is never around much?"  
  
No. Nothing at home has changed. It's the same. It's always the same.   
  
"Of course. I'm sorry. What about school?"  
  
He couldn't help the small grin that stretched across his lips. He turned his head to hide it from the doctor but it was too late.   
  
"I knew it," she said triumphantly. "What is different in school Clark? Do you have a girlfriend?"  
  
Just a friend, he replied, his head still turned.   
  
"Real or imaginary?"   
  
Real.   
  
"I see."  
  
He could hear her pencil scribbling across her notepad.   
  
"A friend is good Clark. Very good."  
  
I guess.   
  
"What is their name?"  
  
Chloe.   
  
"A lovely name. Where did you two meet?"  
  
At school.   
  
"Well I gathered that Mr. Luthor. Where in school? Do you two share a class?"  
  
We met in the school newspaper's office. She's the editor.   
  
"Interesting place to meet."  
  
I was there to join the paper.  
  
"Really?"  
  
Yes.   
  
More notes.   
  
"What made you want to do that?"  
  
Honestly?  
  
"There are no lies in here Clark."  
  
I have no idea.   
  
"How long ago was this?"  
  
A few weeks I think.   
  
"And you never thought to mention it?"  
  
I didn't feel like it I guess.   
  
"Why not?"  
  
Because I didn't think it would last.   
  
"Why would you think that?"  
  
Because nothing good ever does.   
  
She didn't have a reply to that.   
  
"Well good for you Clark. I'm glad you have a friend. And I'm proud of you for wanting to take an interest in a school activity."  
  
Uh, thanks.   
  
"Do you have much in common with her?"  
  
We both write for the paper.   
  
"I meant outside of..."  
  
I don't want to talk about her anymore.   
  
"Oh," she said, thrown by blunt halt of the topic. "All right, you don't have to if you don't want to. But can I ask why?"  
  
Because I don't want her to be a topic here. I don't want to talk about her here. She doesn't belong here. Okay?  
  
"Okay. But..."  
  
I picked up one of my father's Mercedes with my bare hands yesterday, he said.   
  
Dr. Wilson sighed in defeat.   
  
***  
  
When he got home he opened the door to the unfamiliar blast of sound and light. And the even more unfamiliar sight of father standing in the middle of the living room, two phones in hand, and staring with half-interest at the TV. Clark watched from the foyer as father yelled into one phone and tried to listen to the other. Clark thought he could stand there forever and father would never notice him. It would have been true if he didn't get tired of standing and moved toward his room.   
  
"Clark," father called out as he passed. "Got to go," he said into both the phones.   
  
Clark stood stock-still waiting for father to speak again.   
  
"How is school going?"  
  
Great. Small talk. Wonderful.   
  
Fine, he said.   
  
"Getting along with your peers?"  
  
Since when have you cared?  
  
I guess, he replied.   
  
"And how's..."  
  
Can you just skip it dad? Clark snapped. I know you're not interested in my daily life so can you just cut the crap and tell me what you want?  
  
For a second, just a tick in time, father's jaw hung open at his son's outburst. Clark was just as shocked at his own words, but was wise not to show it. Father's face went blank and then returned to normal.   
  
"That a boy," he said.   
  
Clark took a step back when he saw the grin on father's face. The one he always had when Lex spoke out against him. The one that told you he was letting you speak to him like that.   
  
"Don't take any bullshit from anyone not even me."  
  
Father took a step closer, and Clark took another step back.   
  
"Have you and Lex spoken since his departure?"   
  
No.   
  
"That is a shame."  
  
Clark could hear the false sympathy in every syllable of father's words. He tried not to let the disgust and contempt suddenly brewing inside of him show. He'd tried all his life not to feel anything toward this man. It scared him that he was almost feeling hatred. He took another step back and this time father didn't follow.   
  
"I have a small favor to ask you son."  
  
Uh oh.   
  
"I want you to visit your brother this weekend."  
  
Why? Clark asked.   
  
"Is it such a strange request for a father to want his boys to get along?"  
  
Clark didn't answer. He knew full well why his father would ask him to visit Lex. He knew father could have cared less if his sons got along. Father was curious about Lex. Lex must be up to something and father can't figure it out this time. Father wanted him to visit because he knew Clark didn't lie. If father asked him what he saw, he would tell him.   
  
No wonder father thought honesty was a flaw. It was so easily exploited.   
  
They stared at each other for what felt like eons.   
  
Then father's phone rang and he went back to his calls.   
  
Clark hoped he wouldn't notice the handprint he'd left in the wall.   
  
***  
  
The soothing night breeze did little to ease his mood. Father had barely paid attention to him his entire life, and now he was asking favors. Now he was asking him to spy on his brother. Using him like a pawn. He'd happily stayed away from Lex and father's feud for years. He should have known it was only a matter of time before one of them dragged him into it. He'd always been the good one. Never started any trouble. Never raised his voice. Never lied, cheated, or stole. He knew he was better off for it. Now father was taking advantage of it. He stared at the lights below. He didn't think about the people. He didn't feel the peace. In a roar of anger he tore himself away from the edge of the building and sent a fist flying into the side of father's helicopter and watched helplessly as it teetered on its feet before falling onto its side.   
  
Clark never liked being angry. He was always afraid of what could happen. Who could get hurt. He knew that when he got mad, things got broken.   
  
His anger faded away instantly and was replaced by blind panic. He knew he had to get the copter back up somehow or father would finally notice that there was something different about his "other" son. That all the things he said he could do weren't just his imagination. No delusion. Only disillusion caused by ignorance and neglect.   
  
As much as Clark used to try and show father what he was capable of, he knew now that everything was better kept to himself. He ran to the other side of the helicopter and bent to his knees, straining to get his fingers underneath the side. He knew he didn't have to worry about father hearing him. The apartment had always been soundproof. After a little finessing of the metal, he finally got his fingers underneath and held his knees bent for more support of the weight. With one push of strength he felt the copter move easily under him. With another push and a strained growl, he lifted the helicopter slowly off the ground. One more cry and one last push and the copter teetered back to its feet without protest.   
  
He wasn't even winded.   
  
He pumped a fist into the air and howled at the moon.   
  
He could lift father's helicopter.   
  
He didn't have to be curious about it anymore.   
  
For the first time in years he wasn't ashamed of his abilities. He felt good. His eye caught the roof top across the street. Always there, always mocking him. He felt a surge of energy and took off in a flash of speed. He leapt from the edge of the roof and threw his arms above his head. He felt the wind rushing below him. The weightlessness of his body soaring through the air. He saw the cars streaming underneath him.   
  
He landed on the other roof in a crouch and rolled a few feet before coming to a stop. He crawled slowly to his feet and stared back in wonder at his building. He jumped around and hollered at the moon, throwing his arms wildly about. He didn't care if anyone heard him.   
  
He wondered what Dr. Wilson would say when he told her he flew. 


	5. Five

Clark stared out the car window with interest. He'd been out of town many times before but had never been in the position to simply sit and watch as the urban landscape of Metropolis thinned out into the suburbs. Never got the chance to see the suburbs dwindle into flats of farmland. Whenever he had left the city it was usually in father's jet or father's helicopter. When he ran out of the city limits he had to concentrate on not hitting anything, and making sure nothing hit him. No time to watch anything. He admired the yellow-golden glow the sun cast upon the wall of wheat growing alongside the highway.   
  
Corn grew on the other side, but he didn't look at it much. It was more comfortable to lean against the door and stare out of his window rather than sitting up straight and looking through the windshield. He thought he remembered a cornfield for some reason. There was something happening in it. Burning? It was too old and faded to recall correctly. He let it fall through.   
  
Chloe sat in the driver's seat, tapping her hand on the steering wheel along to the beat of a song on the radio Clark didn't know. She jumped at the chance to drive his practically unused Mercedes convertible. Father had bought it for him the day he turned sixteen. He'd used it once, maybe twice since then. He wasn't fond of driving. He thought that the recurring dream of flight played a factor in his dislike.   
  
"Thanks for asking me to come along," she said, fiddling with the radio. "I haven't seen my Dad in months."  
  
No problem, he replied. It would have been pretty boring coming out here by myself. And honestly? I really didn't want to do it alone. Besides, he said smiling at her. Who else would had driven all this way?  
  
She gave him a playful punch on the arm.   
  
"I still say you're crazy for never driving this car. I mean, the handling alone is superb. I barely even have to steer."  
  
You know I don't like driving, he said.   
  
"I know, I know," she sighed. "Just saying I didn't get it is all."  
  
So how come you don't visit your dad as much? He asked.   
  
"Well, I used to come out here on weekends all the time. But that was before I was old enough to join the paper. Dad understands that I'm busy. But I do feel bad for leaving him alone sometimes."  
  
Maybe he has a girlfriend.   
  
"My dad? Ha."  
  
You never know.   
  
"I don't even want to think about that."  
  
So is Smallville really as strange as it's cracked up to be?  
  
"Well it's not Twin Peaks or anything," she replied. "But since that big meteor shower ten or eleven years ago, everyone in town seems to think it's the reason for all unexplained phenomena. I've read a bunch of articles written about the whole incident, my old friend Pete sends them to me. But I couldn't tell you much more than what they said. I don't live there, and when I visit my dad nothing weird ever happens."  
  
Meteor crash huh? Clark said as the "Welcome to Smallville" sign slowly crept into view.   
  
"That's the claim to fame," she replied as they zipped passed it.   
  
***  
  
The front gates were already open when Chloe drove up to them, and she maneuvered the car easily inside. Moving up the driveway she couldn't help but mumble "holy crap" at the sight of the house. It greatly resembled, and was as big as a castle.   
  
"Nice digs Luthor," she said. "It's just your brother that lives here?"  
  
Well, the help lives there too.  
  
"The help?" She admonished. "In the short time I've known you that's the first time you actually sounded rich."  
  
Sorry, he rushed to apologize, not liking the 'rich' label. What about homestead engineers? Is that better?  
  
She laughed lightly.   
  
"I swear Clark, if you weren't such a pretty boy I don't know what you'd have to offer humanity."  
  
I have a few things, he replied.   
  
She laughed again and shook her head. She parked the car next to the fountain, got out, and found herself staring skyward at the roof. "This is entirely too much house," she said.   
  
Clark rang the bell, and could honestly say that Victoria was the last person he ever expected to open the door. He was even more surprised that he had to tilt his head downward to look her in the eye. The last time he'd seen her was when he was fourteen. She had nearly six inches in height on him then. How things changed. Though, if he wanted to keep being honest, he could say that her beauty hadn't.   
  
"Why Clark Luthor," she said, her accent making his ears tingle. "How nice to see you."   
  
She moved to hug him, but not knowing exactly how to react, he remained still while she wrapped her arms around him.   
  
"My, my," she purred, running her hands up and down his back. "How you've grown."  
  
"Ahem," Chloe scoffed, her brow furrowed at the display.   
  
"Oh," Victoria said, turning her head in the blonde's direction, her arms still around Clark. "You've brought a little friend."  
  
Chloe's furrowed brow morphed into a full-grown scowl at the "little friend" comment, but she said nothing.   
  
Clark's cheeks flushed as Victoria slowly removed herself from him and stood aside in the doorway to let them pass. Chloe kicked Clark in the ass when he didn't move at first, and they both stumbled inside.   
  
"I believe Lex is in his office," Victoria said. "I'll go get him."  
  
Clark couldn't help but watch as she made her way up the stairs, pausing on one and turning back to give him a little smile. When she and Lex had "dated" before, he did have a small crush on her. He'd never thought much of it. He'd seen the "little brother gets a crush on the older brother's girlfriend" scenario on TV one too many times. Still, it felt weird seeing her here.   
  
"So who's the bimbo with the accent?" Chloe asked once Victoria was out of earshot.   
  
Clark was still staring at the stairs, and Chloe rolled her eyes before smacking his arm lightly.   
  
"Hey," she huffed. "I'm still here you know."  
  
What? Oh, sorry. It's just that...  
  
"Just that what? I've never seen you go gaga over a pretty girl before Luthor. What's the deal?"  
  
First crush, Clark admitted. She and Lex used to date a few years ago. I guess they're back together or something.   
  
"First crush huh?"  
  
Yeah.  
  
"Not bad as far as first crushes go, I guess. That attitude isn't winning her any points though."   
  
Sorry, Clark said again. She's just the last person I ever expected to see here.   
  
"So you're not going to be 'blush and stare' boy all day? Because if you are I can go to my dad's house right now."  
  
I won't be, Clark assured. I promise.   
  
"Good."  
  
Clark looked at his friend strangely. She was looking at the stairway Victoria had been on just moments ago and... Well the look on her face wasn't exactly friendly. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought she was jealous in some way. Of what, he didn't know. He would have asked if Lex hadn't come walking down the stairs.   
  
"Clark," he said. "It's good to see you."  
  
Clark smiled politely back at his brother. He knew Lex's "friendly in front of other people" routine better than anyone. He shook Lex's hand and exchanged pleasantries. Lex's eyebrow arched when he saw Chloe standing there watching them.   
  
"Don't tell me you brought a girl home little bro," he said with a grin. "Girlfriend?" He asked.   
  
"Just a friend," she replied sticking out her hand. "Chloe Lane-Sullivan."  
  
"Lex," he said as he shook her hand and smiled. "Chloe... Gabe's daughter?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He talks about you all the time."  
  
"Oh no," she replied. "Nothing too embarrassing I hope."  
  
"Only to brag I assure you. I hear you're quite the up and coming reporter."  
  
"Guilty," she replied with a laugh, which Lex echoed.   
  
Clark unknowingly took a step closer to his brother, and stood towering over him.   
  
"There a problem Clark?" He asked.   
  
Clark, finally realizing the move, backed off immediately.   
  
No, he mumbled.   
  
"Good."  
  
Lex turned back to Chloe.   
  
"You're staying for dinner aren't you?"  
  
"Is that an invitation?"  
  
"It is."  
  
"Then I accept. I'll have to call my dad and tell him I'll be coming home a bit later than expected."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"It'll be a party;" Victoria threw in as she came to the bottom of the stairs.   
  
Clark watched the display of Lex talking, and even mildly flirting with Chloe. He'd seen Lex do it with a million girls before and never thought anything of it. But this time...  
  
"I wouldn't worry about Lex," Victoria whispered in his ear. "His eyes like to roam but he's not a pervert. You're friend is only sixteen."  
  
So am I, he replied, turning to face her.   
  
He felt her fingertip brushing along the bottom of his earlobe. He brought his shoulders up to shrug her off. He didn't want to be tickled by her in front of Lex and Chloe.   
  
"I didn't say anything about me," she whispered.   
  
***  
  
Dinner was currently going by without incident. Lex and Chloe's foyer chat escalated into full-blown conversation. One Clark didn't think he'd have much to offer for. He merely listened while they went from topic to topic, each expressing strong opinions toward one issue, agreeing on another, and disagreeing over several. Clark wasn't up to date on nearly half of what they discussed. Chalk up another line for how many times he'd felt left out. Victoria tossed in her thoughts every now and then, whenever they talked about something that interested her. But mostly she ignored them.   
  
Every time Clark looked up from his plate he found her staring at him. Her look reminded him of a lioness on the hunt. He felt funny about being the prey. He hadn't seen her in two years, and even then she rarely acknowledged him beyond a mandatory 'hello' when she stopped by the apartment looking for Lex. One glance at the door and suddenly he was prime rib on her menu. He didn't understand. He didn't think he wanted to understand.   
  
His arms tightened on the armrests of the chair every time Lex made Chloe laugh. He had to stop when he heard the wood begin to splinter and crack. The word jealously popped into his head, but he wasn't sure what it covered. The fact that Lex had this seemingly endless fountain of charm, or that Chloe was actually enjoying herself from it.   
  
She was his only friend.   
  
Some part of him wanted to keep it that way. To keep her from Lex and his smiles and bravado. He wanted it to be something that the poison the name Luthor brought with it couldn't touch.   
  
He felt a foot slowly tracing its way up his leg and he lifted his eyes to meet Victoria's. She smiled softly at him and winked. He felt his cheeks grow hot again, and glanced quickly at Lex and Chloe.   
  
He didn't want them to get along so well.   
  
He didn't want Victoria to stir up trouble by shamelessly flirting with him.   
  
He didn't want to eat the lasagna Abe the chef had prepared.   
  
He didn't want anything in this house.   
  
He never got what he truly wanted.  
  
***  
  
Chloe stood next to the Mercedes twirling the keys in her hands. She waved to Lex who remained at the doorway. Clark stood watching the water rippling in the fountain; the lights inside making it look red. He heard the door bang shut and he turned his head to make sure it was closed. It was. He looked back at Chloe, who still had a small grin on her face. He felt his hands tighten against it.   
  
"He's good," she said.   
  
What?  
  
"Your brother. Real smooth talker, knows what to say and how to say it. Knows when to push and when to back off. Real good at keeping that dark cloud in his eyes at bay when he's talking to you. He'll make a killer businessman. Has all the skills already."  
  
Huh?  
  
"Lex," Chloe replied in a 'duh' manner. "You think I really believe he's that nice and genuine? Please. What kind of two-bit hack of a reporter do you take me for? I know how he really is. I've come across some stories and you already told me a lot about him. You don't hide the truth Clark, not even about your family. But Lex? Man. He just screams 'manipulator.' I mean wow. If he can fake being such a nice guy for that long and not even flinch, I feel sorry for whoever crosses him."  
  
You mean you saw through all of that?  
  
"Like looking through a window," she replied.   
  
I thought you two were pretty chummy.   
  
"Well of course I played along. Was I supposed to say 'I know all about you Lex Luthor, so you can just cut this good guy crap'? I don't think so."  
  
Seemed like more than that.  
  
Chloe looked up and smiled at him.   
  
"I don't think green is your color Clark," she teased.   
  
He didn't reply.   
  
"Are you sure you want me to take your car? My dad would pick me up."  
  
I'm not going to use it, he said. Better you have it than me.   
  
"I still say you're crazy for not loving this car."  
  
You and everyone else.  
  
She laughed softly and Clark took a step closer. She smiled softly again and they stood in a comfortable silence. The lights from the fountain cast a small red glow over them and made her hair look pink. The next thing Clark knew he was pulling her closer to him and wrapping his arms gently around her shoulders. He'd never really hugged someone outside of his family. And all those times were completely meaningless. A mere show for no one really watching. Chloe responded by wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his chest. He felt that small reassurance somewhere inside him as they hugged. The small feeling that she could be trusted. That he could tell her everything. The time didn't feel right. But he was pretty sure it was growing closer all the time. She was his escape from his life. The one thing in a world of witnessed corruption and loneliness that made it all seem worth it. That his strength and power and instinctive nobility, that could in no way shape or form have come from the Luthors, was all meant for something. That he was truly destined for greater things and greater use. He knew it was silly to place all these things in the arms of one person. But at the moment it felt that way.   
  
I glad you came, he said.   
  
"Me too," she replied.   
  
Drive safely, he said pulling back.   
  
"I'll call you tomorrow," she said getting into the car. "We'll wander around town and you'll see that the 'small' isn't just a clever name."  
  
He smiled.   
  
She started the car and gave one last wave before putting it in gear and driving around the fountain. Clark watched as the taillights drifted down the drive and didn't move until they had disappeared. He sighed. He almost wished she were staying over. He didn't want to spend the night in the lavishly filled, yet empty, house.   
  
***  
  
Victoria was very good at being the last person Clark expected to see behind opened doors.   
  
He'd wandered up the stairs to try and find Lex's office. He figured now was the best time to tell him father's intentions for his visit. He knew that father had probably taken his confession into account, but sent him anyway. The mansion seemed like more of a maze than a house. Even with his speed, finding the office was proving to be difficult. Stopping somewhere in the east wing, he focused his eyes to the point where all the walls slowly faded away. He saw the skeletal form of someone typing on a computer in a room just twenty doors away. Assuming it was Lex, he quickly made his way toward it. When he opened the door, there was Victoria. Typing furiously and not even noticing that he'd come in. Lex had never been the type to share his things before. And in one month's time, he doubted his brother had changed that much.   
  
Does Lex know you're using that? He asked.   
  
Her head snapped up quickly, and the look on her face was one of instant guilt. It easily faded away into a seductive smile, and Clark knew that Lex was probably unaware of her use of his computer.   
  
"Not going to tattle on me I hope?" She said smoothly. "Just a curious little bird I am."  
  
She moved around the edge of the desk, the smile never faltering, her eyes glowing with delight.  
  
Um...  
  
"Lex has been a very busy boy," she said nodding her head toward the computer. "Though I'm sure your father is quite aware of that. You are here after all..."  
  
Uh....  
  
"Tell me Clark," she asked. "You and your little friend. You are just friends aren't you?"  
  
She was getting awfully close.   
  
J-just friends, he managed to reply.   
  
"Didn't look like a 'just friends' hug outside," she said.   
  
You were watching us?  
  
"You'd be surprised how many eyes this house has Clark."  
  
Why do you want to know?  
  
"A curious bird remember?" She smiled. "Haven't you been noticing the way I've been looking at you? Don't tell me you're really that naive."  
  
I'm not.   
  
"I didn't think so."  
  
Even closer.   
  
"Are you going to tell Lex I was playing in his sandbox?"  
  
I...  
  
"Because I could think of so many more fun things to do rather than talking to your brother."  
  
So close.   
  
"You've grown into quite the beautiful boy Clark," she purred, now close enough to run her hand slowly across his chest. "I knew that the second I opened that door today. So honest. So pure."   
  
She circled around him. A lioness and her prey.   
  
"I don't know how you can be this way. Not with that tyrant of a father you have, and certainly not with a brother like Lex."   
  
Hands slowly moving underneath clothing, the skin of her hands so smooth against his stomach.   
  
"Curious little bird," she whispered into his ear. "Wants to know what makes you tick."   
  
Lips on the side of his neck. Hands moving lower.   
  
I have to go, Clark said, breaking away from her.   
  
She gave him a pout and tiptoed closer again.   
  
"Don't want to play Clark?"  
  
Chloe, he said.   
  
"Just a friend."  
  
Lex.   
  
"We have an arrangement, you might say."  
  
What kind of arrangement?  
  
"Now, now," she cautioned. "Can't reveal all my dirty little secrets."  
  
I should go find Lex.  
  
"He's out on the balcony."  
  
Okay.   
  
"You're not going to tell on me are you Clark? You know he never liked it when I misbehaved."  
  
So close again.  
  
"You won't tell will you?"  
  
I...  
  
"Not if I let you touch me?"  
  
I have to go, he said turning and fleeing out of the office.   
  
***  
  
"Either you have a will of steel," Lex said as Clark approached. "Or I just might have to question your orientation."   
  
You saw all of that?  
  
"There's very little that goes on in this house without me knowing Clark."  
  
So you saw?  
  
"That Victoria was going through files on my computer? Of course."   
  
What? You know and you let her do it?   
  
"I let her see what she wants to Clark."  
  
I don't get it.   
  
"It's better if you don't try to."   
  
Clark frowned at his brother. So many things he wanted to say, never a way to actually say them.   
  
"You know I was wondering just the other day how long it would be before Dad sent you to spy on me."  
  
I really wish he hadn't, Clark replied.   
  
"You shouldn't expect so much of him Clark," Lex replied with a grin. "You'll only be disappointed."  
  
So you know why Dad sent me here, and you know Victoria is going through your files.   
  
"I know a lot of things."  
  
The look on Lex's face made something inside Clark feel uneasy. His brother looked at him with deceitful, yet knowledge filled eyes. He felt the instinctive urge to run away. He knew that whatever Lex might have to say, he truly didn't to know.   
  
Like what? He found himself saying.  
  
"Like details about your adoption."  
  
Why would I want to know those?  
  
"Because there is one interesting little detail, amidst a handful of other little interesting details mind you, that I think you might want to know."  
  
Damn it Lex! Clark shouted. Why would you root around my adoption? What are you trying to do here? I know we haven't gotten along all the time. And I know why dad sent me here, but you know I was going to tell you. I've never lied to you Lex. Why would I start now?  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to know?  
  
Are you even listening? If it's about my real parents I don't want to know okay? They're either dead or simply didn't want me. It doesn't matter either way. It doesn't matter who they are.  
  
"Actually," Lex said, a small smirk on his lips.   
  
Clark wanted to knock it clean off his face.   
  
"I wasn't talking about that Clark. You're file says nothing about any natural parents at all."  
  
Then what are you talking about?  
  
"The fact that dad essentially stole you from someone else."  
  
What?  
  
"Another family tried to adopt you Clark. They were pretty determined too it seems. But you know dad. He always gets what he wants."  
  
Clark felt his body grow numb. Why would his father want to adopt him so badly he'd take him away from someone else? No thoughts could form through the haze. It was simply too much to process all at once. He took one last tired look at his brother and turned to leave.   
  
"Hey Clark," Lex called after him. "I heard about the school paper gig. Nice to see you so outgoing for a change." 


	6. Six

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked as she pulled the car onto the side of the road next to the sprawling wooden fence. "I mean, will they even know who you are? And if they do then what? Some off the wall would be family reunion?"  
  
I don't know, Clark replied.   
  
He'd told her everything about what Lex had said, shown her the paperwork he provided. About how father always got what he wanted. It didn't matter the product. She was shocked to say the least. She'd always known that the Luthor's were contenders for the dysfunctional family hall of fame. But everything about baby stealing, essentially that's what it was, put them in the front running. She'd attempted a reply but found that no words that could possibly offer any form of understanding. It was a topic beyond her. She'd been, and currently still was, skeptical of even coming near the "Kent" farm. She thought that no good could possibly come of it.   
  
He felt her eyes on him as he surveyed the landscape. It almost seemed like a Norman Rockwell painting, all peaceful and serene in the heart of mid-west Americana. He looked back to Chloe whose face still bore features of apprehension. He smiled softly at her as he opened the car door.   
  
Wait here, he said.   
  
"Okay."  
  
A small breeze kicked up as he made his way along the fence and to the dirt road leading into the property, whipping his hair around. He saw a flock of bird's jump from the roof of the barn and into the gusts, heard the distant mooing of cows off in a pasture, saw the massive growth of vegetables just beyond the house. He felt a complete sense of calm in his surroundings. He'd never felt so peaceful in Metropolis. Not even in his soundproof apartment. He knew he could have enjoyed growing up here. Knew that it could have been great. A nice hard working family. A mom and a dad whole would love him the way parents were supposed to. Not the mind games father liked to play with his family. The endless game of chess where checkmate was never won.   
  
He made his way closer to the barn, could smell the hay and horses inside. He imagined having to learn to ride them in a more natural way. A trial and error process with a father who possessed patience and understanding. Not like learning at the country club with a fifty-two year old horse breeder named Josephine, who had neither the patience nor social skills to deal with a child. He imaged a mother to be there to put rubbing alcohol on his skinned knees (if he'd ever gotten a skinned knee) when he fell.   
  
He looked at the garden, lush with carrots, and lettuce, and potatoes. He imagined helping a mother who would appreciate the effort. Would teach him when exactly a vegetable was ripe for the picking. When the time was right to harvest. How to clean and prepare them. A mother that would make him lunch when they were finished.   
  
He imagined parents that would listen to his problems and help him with his homework. Imagined holiday celebrations that weren't just dates with words in the boxes on a calendar. Imagined smiles that were real and honest. He imagined feeling loved.   
  
He imagined being happy here.   
  
He saw the truck parked on the side of the barn. He walked slowly up to it. It was blue rather than red. He put a hand on the hood. It was still warm from some chore of hauling wood or bales of hay.   
  
Not the truck, he murmured.   
  
Not his truck. The red one. The one in his dreams.   
  
He wasn't completely disappointed. He knew trucks didn't last forever. Head gaskets blew, fuel lines broke, and front ends were crushed by flaming rocks falling from the sky.   
  
He imagined learning to drive as a pleasant experience. A time where knowledge was passed on in a helpful way. Where a father told the son when the let the clutch out, and when to brake and downshift. Where a father told him to "feel" the car. To know when to turn, how to gas, how to park. Not like Lionel Luthor who simply tossed you the keys and told you to go.  
  
All of a sudden the door to the house opened and Clark hid himself just behind the truck bed. He watched as the sight of a little girl, ten or eleven by his guess, wandered onto the porch in red pants and a white shirt. The resemblance to a candy cane made him grin. She danced around the front steps and sung some unknown song. Clark watched and knew his instincts about this being a happy place were true. Two older people, presumably Jonathan and Martha Kent, walked out of the house and smiled at the little girl still dancing around. Clark took the papers Lex had given him from his pocket and read them over again. These were the Kent's. The people who found him, who named him. The papers indicated that. He didn't think father would have chosen Clark as a name for his son. Lex was named after a conqueror. Alexander the great. There was no Clark the great. Only Clark the lost boy. Not the best title, but it seemed to work. He's surprised father didn't change his after the adoption. A small part of him inside suddenly felt hollow. A part somewhere deep that could never be filled. He imaged what it would have been like, what could have been. He turned and ran at full hilt, careful to let the blur of his speed escape their line of vision, back to the car.   
  
He knew he had to get out of there before the urge to talk to them overtook him.   
  
Before he made the mistake of introducing himself.   
  
It was pointless imagining a life here.   
  
It was pointless letting himself revel in the "what ifs" and "could have beens."   
  
His cards were not dealt that way.   
  
The house had already won.   
  
It was pointless to think about the possibilities of the past.   
  
He had enough trouble dealing with the present.   
  
***  
  
He tried to hide from Chloe's concerned eyes by staring into his black cup of coffee, but his own reflection offered no solace. They were sitting in the local coffee shop sipping on over priced drinks and not saying a word. He could tell Chloe wanted to. Wanted to ask him why he ran to the car so fast. Why he told her to just go. He hadn't said a word otherwise, didn't reply when she pulled up in front of this shop. Didn't ask for anything else when she ordered him house coffee. He tried to ignore the way she nervously drummed on the end of the table, but the idle chit chat he overheard by the other patrons simply wasn't loud enough.   
  
Chloe, he said reaching to stop her hands from tapping.   
  
He looked up from his coffee to see her eyes locked on his hand over hers, noticed the way the left side up her lip curled up in a secret smile. He wanted to pull his hand away, because he thought it selfish to want comfort for something he couldn't even talk about. If the brief minutes he walked on that farm, for the first time in so long, he knew life could have been better. Better for him, possibly better for everyone. Maybe if he'd been raised in Smallville, mother wouldn't have died. Maybe Lex wouldn't have grown up to be so resentful of father. Maybe the whole world would have been different.   
  
He felt Chloe's hand lift from under his. He almost grabbed for it again but she was already winding her fingers in his when the urge hit. He looked at their entwined fingers, felt something he couldn't describe and didn't want to bother to try. He sipped at his cooling coffee and enjoyed the feeling of finally having someone next to him. Someone who was just there.  
  
"I'm sorry it didn't go as well as you wanted it to," she said softly. "But you really shouldn't have expected any better."  
  
He looked up at her a little stung.   
  
"I'm not going to baby you Clark. I didn't think it was a good idea and it wasn't. But I am sorry that it wasn't. You deserve so much..."  
  
She blushed and turned her head away, taking a long sip of her drink.   
  
"So much more than you already have," she said softly.   
  
The sincerity of her words almost scared him. It suddenly felt like she was too close. He was poison. He would only bring those around him pain. He had a brief instinct to run from it, to escape and save himself. But she stopped blushing, smiled sweetly at him, gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and he knew everything could be all right.   
  
"So this coffee is pretty good," she said. "Not as good as Jitters but still pretty good."  
  
He smiled at the reference to the coffee shop a few blocks away from school they were known to frequent. She'd taken him there after he had finished his first article for the Excelsior. He drank his coffee, groaning slightly against its now chilly temperature. His eye caught the front display of a flower shop just down the street. He looked at his and Chloe's hands, looked up at her friendly eyes. He thought she deserved a small present for being so good to him. Something for just being her.   
  
I'll be right back, he said.   
  
"Oh, uh, okay," Chloe replied, reluctantly letting go of his hand.   
  
***  
  
The bell chimed as he opened the door and walked inside. The scent of so many different types of floral arrangements attacked his senses. He thought that who ever this Nell of Nell's Bouquet on the sign outside must not have a good sense of smell to be able to work here all day. He didn't know much about flowers. Mother used to have a potted plant or two around the penthouse, but was never a green thumb. She liked roses. He knew that. So roses he would get. The shop seemed to be empty, not another customer in sight, but he could hear the sounds of someone tinkering in the back. A small focus of his eyes revealed the outlined form of someone cutting flowers over a sink, just beyond the doorway behind the counter. Maybe they hadn't heard the bell. He looked back through the window briefly, could see Chloe's form still at the table in coffeehouse window.   
  
"Can I help you?" A voiced asked.   
  
He turned back to see a girl about his age. He looked at her strangely for a second. She reminded him briefly of girls he'd seen plastered all over teen magazines that focused on who was hot and who was not, millions of beauty tips, but never any articles with substance. Or she could have been one of those flawless faced girls in skin care commercials, telling you about revolutionary acne fighting ingredients and facial cleansing cloths.   
  
She was beautiful. He knew anyone with a pair of eyes would have thought so. Even in her plain garb of water splashed overalls and hair pulled into a simple ponytail. She wore little make up, and in his opinion she didn't really need it. She leaned against the counter and folded her arms.   
  
"Can I help you?" She asked again.   
  
Roses, he said.   
  
"Huh?"  
  
Uh, I'd like some roses.  
  
"Roses," she repeated with a friendly smile. "A classic. They for a special occasion? Girlfriend maybe?"  
  
Um. Sort of.   
  
"Ah, a sort of girlfriend. We get a lot of those. What color do you think she'd like?"  
  
Good question. In the short time he'd known Chloe, she never had seemed the 'stop and smell the flowers' type. Far too busy with other things to do. He thought of her style of dress outside of the school uniform she'd managed to dash her own flavor to. He sighed. He wasn't good with fashion. He wasn't sure what, if anything, he could find to match anything she might enjoy it with. Chloe was colorful yes, he knew that. But what color would be...  
  
"That hard of a decision is it?"  
  
Kind of, he admitted glancing at her nametag. Lana. Nice name, he thought.   
  
"Well let me see," she said wandering over to a large display of various colored roses in the corner of the shop. "We have pink, white, red, blue, and yellow. Oh, Nell made some more black. I don't think she'd want black would she?"  
  
No, too dark.   
  
"Exactly, I tell Nell all the time that girls aren't exactly dying to get a black rose. She says they're for funerals, but we hardly get enough of those around here to warrant such a supply and..."  
  
She trailed off when she noticed the bemused look on Clark's face. Rarely had he ever seen someone talk so openly with a virtual stranger. He guessed it was true about what they said about small towns.   
  
"Sorry," she said. "I tend to ramble sometimes."  
  
Not a problem, he replied.   
  
"Well what do you think she would like?"  
  
I don't know really, he said. I've never had to shop for flowers before, and Chloe wouldn't be the easiest person to buy something for anyway and...  
  
"Chloe," Lana said. "Nice name."  
  
Lana is pretty nice too, he offered.   
  
She smiled slightly.   
  
"Thanks, but it is a little dull if you ask me."  
  
He smiled, and turned his attention back to the flowers. I think I'll go with pink and white.   
  
"Not bad," she nodded approvingly. "I bet she'll love them."  
  
I hope so.   
  
"Trust me," Lana grinned. "Any girl who doesn't love getting a gift has to be crazy."  
  
Lana grabbed three pink roses and three white ones from the display and carefully cradled them in her hands to avoid the thorns. She walked passed Clark and he felt his head begin to spin, and his body fill with ache. It felt as if all the energy was suddenly drained out of him. He swayed on his feet slightly and moved to lean on the counter. He took a few deep breaths and watched as Lana took the roses behind the counter and wrapped them in cellophane, tying them in the middle with a white ribbon. She took a few small plastic vials, filled them with water, and attached them to the bottom of the stems. He saw a necklace wrapped around her throat with a tiny green gem in the middle. It reminded him of a pair of earrings mother used to have. How they seemed to make him instantly feel sick. It was the only other time he remembered feeling this way.   
  
"I hope half a dozen is all right," she said.   
  
Perfect, he said, still trying to shake off the nausea.   
  
"Great," she said handing the bundle to him. He could see the veins on the back of his hand. "Will that be cash or charge?"  
  
Cash, he replied pulling out his wallet and producing a bundle of twenties, the veins and the sickness still prominent.   
  
"Don't see too many kids our age with such a cash flow," she commented.   
  
Oh, well, he said staring at the bills as if they'd suddenly sprouted gills. Uh...   
  
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "Was that unnecessary? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."  
  
Oh, no, you didn't.   
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
I am.   
  
"Okay. That'll be $9.95 then."  
  
He handed her a twenty, eyes squinting against the ache, and she quickly produced his change.   
  
"I didn't get your name," she said handing him the money.   
  
Clark, he replied hoarsely. Nice to meet you.   
  
"Clark Luthor?" She asked.   
  
You know Lex huh? He asked, teeth gritted.   
  
"Not many people in town who don't know him," Lana replied. "I've met him once or twice. He comes in every now and again to buy flowers. Roses as a matter of fact."  
  
Must run in the family, he replied.   
  
"Seems like it. He mentioned you once. Said he had a brother my age, asked if I'd want to meet you if you ever visited."  
  
Please tell me he didn't, Clark sighed, waves of illness still pouring through him. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  
  
"Don't be embarrassed," she smiled. "I bet all older brothers do that sort of thing."  
  
I hope not, Clark replied. For all the little brothers sakes.   
  
"I hope Chloe likes her flowers."  
  
Me too, he said smiling and turning to walk out.   
  
"It was nice meeting you," she called.   
  
Likewise, he replied, opening the door and magically feeling better.   
  
What the hell was that? He wondered.   
  
***  
  
He knew it was a good idea when he walked back to the table and Chloe's face lit up as he produced the bouquet from behind his back.   
  
"What are these for?" She asked as she brought them to her nose to inhale the sweet scent. "You trying to butter me up for something Clark?"  
  
Just because, Clark replied, grinning at her enjoyment.   
  
"Well, they're wonderful Clark," she said smiling. "Thank you."  
  
I was hoping that you'd come over for dinner again, he said. I think Lex is going to be out doing something somewhere and Victoria will most likely be with him. So, it wouldn't be crowded. Just, you know, the two of us.  
  
"Flowers and a dinner invitation," Chloe grinned. "You know something Luthor?" She asked taking his hand again.   
  
What?  
  
"I think you like me."  
  
***  
  
As soon as Chloe had dropped him off at the house, he ran straight to Abe and asked for something special. Something that, you know, a girl would enjoy. Abe had merely smiled at him, and said he would have something wonderful cooked up. Clark had thanked him and ran off to the dining room to set the table. He didn't want the staff to attend to it like they insisted on doing. He wanted to do something for himself for a change. Give it a personal touch.   
  
He found flawless bone white China in the cabinets just beyond the kitchen, where Abe, already knee deep in a recipe sang while he cooked. He also grabbed two candlesticks and a box of matches. While setting up the table he'd nearly forgotten he'd told her to come back in an hour. He'd spent most of that time arranging and rearranging everything. The placemats, the plates, the silverware. He wanted it to be perfect.   
  
Unfortunately, perfect was a concept that seemed to allude him time and time again. Victoria strolled into the dining room in a black silk nightgown that barely did its job in covering her body. He tried to ignore the smile on her face when she saw him. Even tried to sneak back into the kitchen to see how Abe was progressing. But she caught up to him before he could even turn around.   
  
"Why Clark," she said with a smile. "What a wonderful surprise."  
  
Um...  
  
"Did you do this for me?"  
  
Chloe's coming over, he mumbled.   
  
"Oh," she replied, the mention of his friend's name making no impact at all. "How sweet."  
  
You're not out with Lex? He asked.   
  
"Sitting in a stuffy, smoke and brandy filled room with a bunch of other small town businessmen is not my ideal Saturday night," she replied. "Lex is only there to make a good name for himself. He doesn't need me to be his trophy."  
  
Trophy?  
  
"Oh please Clark," she said grinning. "I told you we had an arrangement."  
  
You two aren't dating?  
  
"Well, yes and no. We're together, but he can do what he wants. And I can do who I want."  
  
Don't you mean what you want?  
  
"Mmm," she purred. "Maybe."  
  
She was moving closer again, much like she had last night. That devilish sensual grin curving across her lips, the lustful twinkle in her eye. She looked like she knew exactly what she wanted. Clark wasn't to keen being that object of want and backed away but she only kept moving toward him.   
  
"Why don't you like me Clark?" She asked.   
  
I like you fine, he said.   
  
"You're afraid to be close to me."  
  
Well...  
  
"Why? It's not like I'm going to bite."  
  
You might.  
  
She laughed deviously, hips swaying back and forth, moving all the closer to him. His back hit the wall and suddenly there was nowhere else to go.   
  
"You know I just might," she whispered. "If you want me to."  
  
That's okay.  
  
"When are you going to stop pretending that you aren't attracted to me Clark? Hmm?"  
  
I don't think Lex would...  
  
"Lex isn't here."  
  
Her hand moved to caress his face. He could feel the heat building between them, the closeness of her body igniting some unknown spark. The silk of her nightgown was suddenly under his touch as she lifted his hands and placed them on her hips.   
  
"Is that so bad?" She asked. "Is it so bad just touching?"  
  
Chloe's going to be here any minute.  
  
"I thought she was just a friend Clark," she said, moving so that no space existed between them.  
  
Well, she... I mean she and I...  
  
"She's not here now is she?"  
  
She's going to be.  
  
"Mmm," she purred guiding his hands along her silk covered body, moving them across her chest and over her shoulders, down to the small of her back. "Such strong hands."  
  
I...  
  
"Aren't you going to kiss me?"  
  
Umm....  
  
"Don't you want to?"  
  
Chloe's going to be here...  
  
"Kiss me."  
  
She wasn't asking. Clark didn't even have time to say no before her lips were pressed against his, her hands sliding between the buttons of his shirt, fingers caressing his chest. She moaned softly into his mouth, her tongue prying between his lips and demanding satisfaction. He slid his hands slowly up her shoulders, let her think he was going to wrap them around her, before firmly wrapping his fingers around her upper arms and pushing her away. She gasped at the force, and her eyes widened with shock.   
  
"Problem?"  
  
Chloe...  
  
"What about her?"  
  
Clark stared past Victoria's shoulder, his eyes meeting his friends who stood frozen at the end of the dining room table. His felt a pang in his chest at the hurt etched across her face. His heart pounding painfully against his ribs from the tears welling in her eyes.   
  
Chloe, he said. It's not... I mean this isn't.   
  
She shook her head, clearly not interested in what he had to say. She didn't say anything. No screams of disappointment. No words to match the hurt. She just stood and stared. Not knowing anything else to do.   
  
"How nice of you to drop by," Victoria said sweetly.   
  
Chloe showed no sign of hearing her. Her eyes remained locked with Clark's. A wordless battle of pain and misunderstanding. She sniffed lightly and before Clark could push Victoria out of the way, she was already out of the dining room and running for the door. Clark glared angrily back at the young English woman, whose hand was still holding his arm.   
  
Why did you do that?  
  
"I wanted to."  
  
You wanted to hurt Chloe? He yelled.   
  
"Of course not. I just wanted to have a little fun."  
  
You call this fun?  
  
"Well it was before she showed up."  
  
Clark shook his head. She and Lex were perfect for each other. They both didn't care what happened to anyone else as long as there was a good time to be had. He pushed her roughly away from him and ran out the door. He had to find Chloe. He had to tell her...   
  
Well, he had to tell her something.  
  
***  
  
Smallville wasn't as small as he had originally thought. He'd been running around for nearly half an hour looking for the street she lived on. It had gotten dark in that time, which made things all the more difficult. Her house was the last one on the block. He'd gone back into Gabe Sullivan's employee record to get the address. He and Chloe had been too busy to stop by today, so he'd never actually seen the house. It seemed nice. A simple two story home, with a balcony branching out in front. The lights were out, and at first he didn't think she was here, until he saw his Mercedes parked in front of the garage just behind the right side of the house. He sighed with relief and focused his eyes against the walls, trying to find her bedroom. He saw her form sitting on her bed. He wondered why she was sitting in the dark.   
  
He rounded the perimeter of the house, keeping his eyes focused on her. Once he was sure he was standing under the right window, he quickly glanced around to make sure no one was around. He closed his eyes and concentrated on making his body feel lighter than air. He made sure to breathe evenly as he felt his feet lift slightly off the ground. He opened his eyes, keeping his attention focused on her window; as he slowly drifted toward it.   
  
He saw her through the glass, sitting on the edge of her bed, hunched over what appeared to be a stuffed animal. He tapped on the window softly but it didn't grab her attention. He tapped a little louder and she looked up startled. He gave a small wave when she saw him, and he could see her roll her eyes in the small amount of light. She got up from the bed and made her way to the window.   
  
"You could have gone to the door," she said.   
  
I'm a sucker for cliches, he replied.   
  
"What are you standing on?"   
  
Um... A ladder.   
  
"Do we even have a ladder?"   
  
Can I come in?  
  
"Sure, why not."  
  
She pulled the window open completely and Clark crawled though easily. She wouldn't look at him when he stood up and he felt that small ping in his chest again. The last thing he'd ever wanted to do was hurt someone. Especially someone who seemed to be getting so close to him.   
  
I came to explain, he said.  
  
"You don't have to do that," she replied.   
  
But I...  
  
"No, it's okay Clark," She said sitting back on her bed and staring at a pile of books on the floor. "I don't know why I got so upset. I mean we're friends."  
  
Yes, he replied. We are.   
  
"Yeah, it's just that. Today, with the flowers and the dinner and everything... I guess I thought. Well it probably doesn't matter. If some English floozy wants to shove her tongue down your throat, who am I to say anything?"  
  
She looked back to Clark, who was still standing by the window, saw the small grin on his face.   
  
Floozy?  
  
"What's wrong with floozy? It's a perfectly acceptable word."  
  
Seems a little old fashioned for such a modern girl like you.   
  
"Clark," she laughed, rolling her eyes again. "While I appreciate the tension breaking banter. We both know you didn't climb up to my window to discuss my vocabulary."  
  
No, he sighed. I didn't.   
  
This was going to be hard. Heartfelt talks (among many other emotional concepts) were something he still didn't fully comprehend. He never had a chance to give them before. He ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit next to her on the bed. He felt her eyes patiently watching and waiting for him to speak.   
  
You're my best friend, he said softly. He liked the way she smiled when he said it. Actually, you're my only friend. Ever.   
  
Her smile faded at the statement.   
  
All my life I've dreamed of being someone else. Someone... normal. I've known that would never happen ever since I... Well ever since I found some thing's out about myself. You know how dad, Lex, and I never got along. I'm... not good with people or saying what I feel. Because I've never had someone to do that with before. Not until I met you. When I saw your face when Victoria kissed me, when you ran off I...  
  
"Clark it's okay," she said reaching out her hand and placing it gently atop his shoulder. "You don't have to apologize for anything."  
  
But I...   
  
"No buts. We are best friends," she confirmed with a smile. "Nothing is going to change that."  
  
He smiled in return as he moved closer, wrapping his arm around her.   
  
You see, he began. I'm not so sure about that. Some thing's can change Chloe. Not always for the bad I know, but not always for the good either...  
  
"Clark," she whispered, shifted her head to look him in the eye. "What are you saying?"  
  
I'm...  
  
"You can tell me," she said softly, her gaze traveling to his lips.  
  
I know, he replied. But I'm... It felt strange to address it out loud. I'm scared.   
  
"You don't have to be afraid of me Clark."  
  
He moved a hand to her cheek, smiling to himself as her eyes drifted closed against his touch. He knew this was right. This moment. This girl. Everything seemed to fall into place. No more waiting, no more hiding.   
  
I have something to tell you, he said.   
  
"Oh," she said as her eyes snapped open, and she shied away from his hand to hide her blush. "You know for a second there I actually thought you were going to kiss me."  
  
Oh, Clark replied, feeling the heat begin to flush his own cheeks. Did you want me to?  
  
"Did you want to?"  
  
Well, yeah of course, but I have...  
  
The feel of Chloe's lips pressing softly against his own cut off his words. He felt a strange feeling begin to course through his stomach and slowly spread its way through his veins. He felt content. For the first time in his life he felt content.   
  
He would tell her everything.   
  
But he had time... 


End file.
